Scratching the Itch
by KittyBooPengy
Summary: AU: Darla tries to salvage the family honour and fix Spike, and dysfunctional relations ensue! Please review, there's more to come!
1. Chapter 1

Scratching the Itch **Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one and Joss owns all**  
**Set in AU, Darla never died, just went away for a while, and Spike stayed badass but did have some dealings with the Scoobies - Review, please!**

CHAPTER ONE:

Spike sipped on some uncomfortably warm bourbon and wished he could have a cigarette. As far as he was concerned, the inconvenience of flying wasn't the potential I'm-on-fire-because-it's-daytime landing, it was the new anti-smoking laws. He remembered the good old days when you could smoke anywhere and no one batted an eyelid unless you were killing them. Now he had been in the air for what felt like a billion hours (but what he was assured was only six) and he was starting to get irritable. Another bourbon would probably cure that.  
"Fill that up for me, would you, pet?" he flashed a smile at the airhostess as she passed and was rewarded with a smashing view of cleavage as she leant over to collect his empty glass. Spike leaned over to watch her wiggle her way down the ailse and licked his lips. If it wasn't for the damned chip he would follow her back there and - "Take a breath, darling." Darla's sugary sweet tone broke through into his reverie and he blinked back into reality. She kept her smile fixed but lowered her voice into a sharp whisper. "I know we're surrounded by cattle, but they can still sense danger, you know."  
Spike rolled his eyes, but noticed a couple of women looking round at the pair. It was always women - men had much more deadened senses in his experience.  
"I wasn't even thinking about killing her," he muttered through a reassuring smile at the humans who's spidey senses were tingling. "Much."  
The airhostess came back into view, with lipstick reapplied for Spike's benefit, and once more leant right over Darla to give him a peek at her wares. And very nice wares they were too. He thanked her and tipped her with a wink before throwing back half of the drink in one thirsty mouthful. He'd only seen Darla again for the first time in years about three hours ago and she was already making him feel like a naughty schoolboy. She had just rolled up to his crypt and bundled him into a car, flight already booked; like his plans didn't matter. Not that he had any plans, but still.  
Next to him, Darla seemed to be counting to ten. She really couldn't stand Spike. He was arrogant and stupid and she was frankly amazed that he had lived for as long as he had, especially now he was neutered. Still, he was family, she reminded herself, that was the whole reason behind this escapade.  
"How long is this flight again?" Spike was studying the last half of his drink and keeping an eye out for another airhostess just in case.  
"You're one stage away from 'are we there yet', aren't you? Now shut up and stop drinking so much."

The streets of Paris at night were just like Spike remembered them. He hadn't been back here for years but it seemed like decades. He had shed his leather coat in deference to the warm weather and strolled along the Boulevard Saint-Germain in a loose fitting black shirt and his trademark black jeans and boots. He took in a deep breath of the evening air and tasted the particular scent of Paris on his tongue. Perfect. Well, almost. Last time he was here he was minus one chip and plus one Drusilla. Spike sat down on the nearest bench and plucked a cigarette out from the pack jammed into his jeans pocket. When did he become so negative? For as long as he could remember (or as long as he cared to remember) he'd always been a happy-go-lucky kind of chap; always up for a killing spree and a good laugh. And now? He was fast becoming an established drunk and he only smiled to win over the ladies. "Pathetic." Darla appeared from nowhere in that annoying way she had and sat down next to him with her usual grace.  
"Funny, just what I was thinking." Spike sighed and offered her a cigarette which she surprisingly accepted. Darla looked amazing under the soft illumination of the street-lamps. She was dressed casually tonight, or as casual as she would allow herself to be, in a sheer red blouse and a tight pencil skirt. Spike raised an eyebrow. A very tight pencil skirt. "Guess what I'm thinking now?"  
"I'd rather stay out of your mind, thank you," she breezed, her acidity coated with a veneer of sugar as it always was. "Anyway, we have better things to do."  
Spike stood up and after one last drag threw away his smoke.  
"Oh yeah, is this when we get me fixed?" his affected nonchalance wasn't too far away from the real thing. He wanted this so badly that the possibility of it being close at hand really hadn't sunk in yet. Darla nodded and brushed a wayward blonde curl behind her ear. Spike decided he would like her to loosen up a bit. He smoothed his hair back, straightened his collar, and faced her with an exaggerated bow. "Shall we then, madmoiselle?" Spike offered her arm and was gratified to see Darla give him a real smile as she stood up and rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. The pair set off into the night, off to some prearranged appointment with Spike's salvation.

Darla was bored. She had done her duty as far as she could see - restored Spike's brain (as far as she could) and thus restored the family honour, and yet here she was still hanging around. The surgeon who'd removed the chip and practically ordered her to stay with the other vampire until he woke up in case there were any complications, and as much as she resented being ordered to do anything, she could see his point. If Spike woke up half brain-dead then she'd have to be there to make sure he was staked before anyone saw him. This family honour thing took a lot of upholding. She walked from the window in their hotel room over to the bed where Spike lay. He was as still as a corpse. Vampires almost always kept up the pretence of breathing, more out of habit than a need to blend in with humans, but his chest was perfectly still. Darla lifted up an eyelid and the blue eye behind it was totally vacant. The surgeon had told her to expect a coma-like state so she wasn't worried, she was just intrigued. She stood back for a minute, sighed, and gave him a sharp poke in the ribs. Nothing. Not a peep. Darla tutted and rooted through Spike's jeans which were hung over the back of a chair for a smoke. She lit up and then a smile flitted onto her lips. If Spike's jeans were here, then he wasn't wearing them; and she knew for a fact that he didn't wear underwear. She lay the cigarette onto an ashtray and sat down on the bed before peeling back the sheet a bit. Although he made no secret that he had an amazing body, it was always a pleasure to see it in the flesh. Darla touched each of the scars on his chest and stomach in turn and gave a little scoffing laugh. Most of the scars Spike had were from tattoos he'd gotten. Sure vampires could get tattoos, but they might as well be transfers. They always healed back to nothing after a few weeks and all they left behind were these silvery lines. He knew that but that seemed to make him more likely to get inked every other week. She trailed her hand down the soft brown hairs leading down from his belly button and swallowed thickly. That was the starter, and now for a look at the main course. Suddenly a hand like a vice gripped her wrist and Darla let out a yelp of surprise as Spike shot up and dragged her into his lap. He growled deep in his throat and despite herself Darla felt a thrill run down her spine as he gazed into her eyes, still holding her in a bone crunching grip.  
He lurched forwards and kissed her with a fire she hadn't felt since she had first turned Angelus, and she melted in his arms, tasting his tongue as it delved into her mouth. He pulled her back by her hair as abruptly as he'd grabbed her and she desperately tried to catch her breath in the face of his radiant smile. She raised an eyebrow and took a deep breath.  
"Well, morning sunshine."

Spike felt like crap. He felt amazing but he also felt like crap. He hadn't been sick from drinking too much blood since he was a fledgling and he'd forgotten how bad it felt. A totally different feeling from being sick after too much booze, which he was all too familiar with. It was even worse since Darla was stood behind him bitching about him and complaining on and on and on and-  
"You're not making this any better." he managed, spitting out the last of the partially coagulated blood viciously from his mouth and wiping his lips on the back of his hand. "What did you expect, woman?"  
"I expect that when I speak you listen," Darla hissed, narrowing her eyes and just daring him to try and interrupt her. "I expect that when I say 'give it a break' you give it a break. You're like a virgin in a brothel."  
Spike spat again, dangerously close to her patent leather stiletto boot, and Darla took a step towards him. They'd come to blows before and he'd rarely profited from their exchanges. Spike apparently didn't remember, though, because he squared up and she could feel his muscles getting ready to spring.  
"Look," he growled. "I've been neutered for quite a while, so -"  
"Shut up." Darla stepped foward again and now they were toe to toe. She was already regretting having sex with him in the hotel room before they came out. She allowed herself to be blown away by his power and intensity and had forgotten what a bitch he was. "Now clean yourself up and try to behave with some dignity." the scorn which poured out of her was unfortunately fuel to the fire, and Spike reacted with a stinging right hook.  
Darla snarled and shot out a stinging slap, raking her nails down his cheek and following up with a kick to the ribs. Spike crashed further down into the alley through his sick and his head whipped against the brick. He screamed and felt his stitches pop and then everything went red.  
When he came out of it he was on top of Darla buried deep inside her. God he had missed this - this abandon, this blood lust, tihs recklessness. "Bitch," he growled, burying his head between her breasts and biting at the soft white skin. Darla wrapped her legs around his back and squeezed as she came near to orgasm.  
"Bastard!" she cried out, grabbing a fistful of his bleached hair and feeling the blood start afresh from the wound on the back of his head. The blood sent her over the edge and the pain pushed Spike into coming fast and hard. They lay panting and sweating, limbs entangled, until their heads had cleared, then Darla stood up and brushed down her skirt with a tut of annoyance at a tear in the hem. She looked down at Spike pulling himself into a sitting position and lighting a smoke.  
"Tidy yourself up," she said casually, trying not to climb back atop of him at the sight of him sprawled there half naked and smug. "I've got a flight booked later and I don't want to be late."  
Spike chuckled and began lazily buttoning his shirt. "Come off it, love," he drawled slowly, savouring his new sense of power and assurance. "You know you're sticking around with me for a bit, no point kidding yourself, is there?"  
Darla glared. No, there wasn't.

****Chapter 2 coming soon!****  



	2. Chapter 2

****Chapter 2****

Spike was drunk. Again. Darla had really hoped that his drinking would have stopped or at least lessened after she'd got his chip removed, but it seemed he had entered into a real habit. Almost every night he was swigging from one bottle or another, just 'to keep him ticking over' he said. That boy really didn't have an ounce of self control. Then again, she shouldn't have expected too much from him, he'd always acted like a bit of teenager let out for an evening and who doesn't know when to stop. She really didn't know how Drusilla put up with him for so long, even if she was insane, and she told him as much.  
"Amazing what a woman will forgive if you're as good-lookin' as I am, love." he smirked, collapsing down on the settee next to her and throwing an arm around her shoulders. Darla leant away from the immediate smell of bourbon which came off him in waves and sighed. Here she was, all dressed up and nowhere to go. Spike was obviously right at home in England, but whereas Angelus would have taken her round and introduced her to the sights and the people, Spike just disappeared for hours at a time living it up by himself. It just wasn't gentlemanly. And neither was the way he was sliding a hand up her leg, pushing up the black satin.  
"You may notice that I'm dressed for an evening out." she said, totally unmoved, and was actually quite impressed at the way he didn't even hesitate.  
"Well let's get you un-dressed for an evening in, shall we?" he leant over and gave her neck a playful nibble, and despite herself Darla giggled. That was it, that was his charm. He made her feel like a young 100 year old again. However, she got the feeling they needed to get back to business. They'd had fun in Paris, Milan, Cologne, and now they'd travelled through England right up to Newcaslte, but it was time to put an end to their holiday.  
"We need to go back to Sunnydale." she whispered, giving up the battle and passing her hand down his chest and unbuttoning his red shirt. Spike unfastened his mouth from her chest and looked up into her eyes. She wasn't joking. He frowned and his hand paused on her inside thigh.  
"Y'know what, Darla, you're a real buzzkill."  
She smiled and pushed his shirt off over his smooth shoulders. "Well I just think we've had our fun, and now it's time to get back there and get some revenge going."  
Spike sat back on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a smoke, but Darla was fast removing his jeans and they were in his pocket.  
"Well, that does sound like fun." he mused, nibbling a nail thoughtfully. "Serious fun, though, different to the slaughter and party fun we've been having an-"  
"Why don't you put that mouth of yours to good use before I get bored?" Darla stood up and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor and thoroughly enjoying the look of hunger which took over Spike's face.  
"Yavol, Kommandant." he saluted and pounced on her, eliciting a little squeal of delight. Ah, to be 100 again...

"No, we leave Angel 'til last." Spike was showing Darla round the villa he had arranged for them and he was starting to get a little bit pissed off at the way she was so down on everything. He'd made his list on the plane over here, and he was sticking to it. He wanted order in this revenge thing, some time to savour each kill. It was like a symphony and everything needed to be perfect in order to reach that thrilling crescendo: the Slayer. When he said Angel was last, they both knew that he actually meant the penultimate death - the Slayer went without saying.  
"I just thinking you ought to be a bit more gentlemanly," Darla protested, stepping over the body of one of the owners of the villa. "He did try to kill me last time I was in LA, after all."  
Spike mimed strangling her and opened the door to the courtyard for her in a theatrical way as possible, as though making a point. Darla obviously didn't notice, however, as his face remained unslapped.  
"We've been through this," he said as he kicked the prostate arm of another corpse away from his path. "Consider it now carved in stone, alright?"  
Darla finally gave a tiny nod of what he assumed was assent that this villa was in fact good enough and that they could now start settling in, and returned to the courtyard where she sat on the lip of the fountain. She patted the space next to her and Spike sat there like an obedient little boy.  
"Well, we'll see," she smiled and brushed a curl of hair behind the other vampire's ear. She much preferred his hair its natural colour, and although it was sort of in the in-between phase at the minute, it still looked better than white blond. Plus, she liked being the blonde one. "I'm just going to have to think of something to occupy my time with while you're out on the kill."  
Spike chuckled and looked at the woman beside him. She really was a cold-blooded killer. He'd thought he knew it all about slaughter and mayhem, but she was practically a professional. Although she did have a couple of hundred years on him, to be fair.  
"I'm sure you'll find something to do, ducks."

Preparation was the key in this as in any enterprise worth doing well. When he had killed that slayer during the Boxer Rebellion, he hadn't just waltzed up and offered up a fight, he'd worked on her family and friends first, softened her up a little. Less so with that second one, Nikki. A smile ghosted across his face at the memory. She really was his favourite one. The problem with Buffy was that he hadn't followed his own rules. He'd killed two slayers so he'd gotten cocky, hadn't bothered with any preparation, and where was he later? Chipped up and chained to the Watcher's bathtub. No, this time he was going to do things properly. He really wasn't feeling half as impulsive as usual these days; he'd really had a good slaughter in Europe so he felt a lot less tense. Plus, he had soon gathered about a good array of lackeys and followers, so all the little details of night to night living were taken care of. Spike sighed peacefully and adjusted his t-shirt. Life really was good.  
He knocked on the door in front of him and threw away the butt of his cigarette into the bushes. The door was thrown open with a considerable lack of caution considering which town they were in, and Spike was confronted with an extremely shocked looking Willow.  
"Evenin', Red." He grinned, throwing an arm up against the doorframe, and almost fell back as she threw herself onto him and gave him a hug. He surpressed a shudder as he reflected that this was how bad things had gotten when little teen witches were so unafraid of him they would actually cuddle him.  
"Spike! We thought you were dust!" she gushed, then realised what she was doing and disentangled herself. she bounded back inside and he walked in as casually as possible, mentally going through how many of the Scooby's houses he had been invited into. "I mean, you just disappeared and you've been gone for months!"  
"Yeah, fancied a holiday, didn't I?" he drawled, and looked around the room. Everyone was now on their feet and crowding around him.  
"Well we really could have done with your help with that thing that happened three months ago," Xander was saying, puffing himself up and putting a proprietary arm around Anya. "That whole Apocalypse thing."  
Spike shrugged and walked round to the kitchen area to shake the Watcher's hand. "How do, Rupert?" Giles shook back warmly and was an inch away from clapping him on the back. He'd really insinuated himself nicely into the group.  
"Where did you go?" Buffy was talking now, leaning over the kitchen counter and fixing him with the only suspicious gaze out of the lot. He glanced at her warily. He'd have to keep his distance and his emotions under control. With her senses, she'd definitely be able to catch on if he gave off even a hint of danger. "I hear Hell's nice this time of year."  
"Went back to Blighty," he replied, helping himself to a beer out of the fridge and turning back to Giles. "Still rains a lot." he said drily, and went to take a seat by the back window, as far away from Buffy as he could without arousing any suspicion. "So, what's new?"  
"Tons," Willow sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears and launching into an account of how many times everyone had nearly died. They were apparently in the middle of investigating a new rush of vampire kills in the area. Spike tried desperately not to laugh.  
"We're actually about to go out on patrol," Giles offered, holding up a cross before remembering and instead passing Spike a stake.  
"Try not to fall on it." Xander sneered on his way past, and Spike saw Buffy looking at him curiously as he felt a bubble of anger at the presumptuous boy's bravado. He quelled it immediately and sauntered over to Willow.  
"Well at least someone's pleased to see me," he smiled and took the redhead's arm. "We make a good team, don't you think?" Willow smiled and began babbling away in that nervous way of hers, but Spike wasn't listening. He was congratulating himself on already separating the herd.

Spike took a long drag on his cigarette and worked through his options. He didn't want to go ahead and just kill the witch, that would get the Scoobies on his back quicker than he could blink. He just hadn't thought this far ahead, if he was honest. Now he was walking through a graveyard with a teenage girl babbling on in his ear and waiting for some big ugly to jump out so he could work off some frustration. "Wait, what?" he could have sworn he just heard the word 'lesbian'. "You saying you're all up for some lady love now, Red?"  
Willow blushed, but not as furiously as she would have done before he had left. She'd obviously found a bit of confidence since she worked out her sexuality issues.  
"Well good for you," he smiled, giving her a slightly awkward pat on the back. "Who's the lucky girl, then?"  
As she began gushing about some bint called Tara, Spike finished off his cigarette and hoped he didn't look too distant. He was planning. So now he had another one to think about and work into his killing spree. He really was glad for Willow, though; was nice to see her grow a pair and relax a little.  
"Hey, I like your hair, by the way." she returned his awkward pat on the back with a slightly less awkward touch on the arm.  
"Thanks, love, the missus prefers it like this." he cringed immediately. So much for Big Bad Spike - he was now in heart-to-heart territory with a teenager. Old habits certainly died hard. He'd have to work this sentimentality out of his system when he got home - Darla was in for some serious pain.  
"The missus?" Willow repeated, giving him a nudge in the ribs. "So there's a Mrs Spike now? Or a Mrs...hey, what is your last name?"  
Spike prayed for a sudden influx of demons to jump out at them; unfortunately the only thing Sunnydale was bringing up tonight was rabbits and birds. Perfect.  
"I don't remember," he lied, taking out another cigarette. "Anyway, it's top secret." Willow giggled and gave him yet another nudge, prompting him into a daydream about ripping off her arm and having a good few hours beating her with it. Not that he particularly disliked Willow, she was probably the best of the lot except for Rupert. He flashed her a smile and decided to start looking for a way in.  
"You'll have to bring her to Giles' birthday thing, let us all check her out." she suggested, fairly hopping along now. Spike thought about that for a second. Everyone in one room, packed in tight, introduce two pretty badass vampires, mayhem ensues, and then they can have cake. "I'll definitely be doin' that, Red," he replied, opening the gate and motioning for Willow to go through first. "Sounds like fun."

Darla was halfway finished with softening up her evening snack when she sensed Spike getting near to the villa. She grinned and stepped things up a notch, wrapping her legs around the man's waist and making sure he was up to the hilt. She scraped her nails down his smooth black skin and shuddered as she smelt a little bit of blood trickle out. He groaned and was obviously a quick finisher, his breathing getting ragged and his muscles spasming as he approached the end. Darla heard Spike enter the bedroom and gave a little moan of almost fake pleasure for his benefit. "Evenin', ducks," he called, flinging his coat down and striding over to the bed. The man on Darla gave a little squeak and found himself similarily flung onto the floor. "You been havin' fun without me?"  
Darla smoothed down her hair and arranged herself into a posture of calm confidence. "Always." she replied silkily, and Spike smirked.  
"Oh I know this game, love," he drawled, giving the man on the floor a little kick to keep him down. "You missin' me while I'm out all night, is that it?"  
Darla chuckled and patted the bed for him to sit down. He began removing his shirt hurriedly but she frowned and gave him a slap on the wrist.  
"Not on an empty stomach, sweetheart." she motioned to the naked man on the floor who was just about to get up and Spike reached over to drag him up between him and the other vampire. With a mock toast the pair took one side of the neck each and drank deep. After they'd finished, Spike lay back and patted his stomach.  
"I really need to cut back on what I'm eatin'," he noted, trying to pinch together some skin he could conceivably call fat. Darla gave him a critical look and rolled her eyes. He was worse than a human woman for worrying about his figure. "Especially if we've got a big party to go to."  
"Oh, I love parties," Darla smiled, getting to her feet and wiping her mouth daintily. Spike looked up and reached out to take her arm.  
"Come back to bed and I'll tell you about it." he drawled, licking the inside of her wrist. Darla snatched her arm away and walked over to the window. She was so bored of being in the house all the time - it was all well and good for Spike to gallavant around but if someone spotted her in this town their plans would be ruined. "Come on, love, come back to bed." He made another grab for her and Darla spun round to hit him with a cracking smack in the jaw. "Sweetie, when I say no that means stop talking and leave the room." she hissed. "I know you're all for rediscovering who you are, but you damned well better not forget who I am." Spike felt his jaw and once he was satisfied it wasn't broken, he moved up to sit on the edge of the bed and look up at the extremely pissed off vampire standing naked in front of him. The extremely pissed off bit made him want to do as she said, but the naked...?  
"Tsk, now look what you did," he tutted, wiping some blood from around his mouth where it trickled from the inside of his cheek. "You've gone and cut me. See?"

**Chapter 3 coming soon**


	3. Chapter 3

***Chapter 3***

*WARNING: Major character death!*

Buffy looked up and smiled as Willow let herself into Giles' apartment the next day, coming to sit down next to her with a plonk. Buffy immediately spotted a love-bite on her neck but decided to keep that tit-bit to herself until she needed some prime teasing material.  
"So, what's the news, Will?" she grinned, tucking her legs under her body and turning to face her friend. "No news on the Slayage front last night?"  
Willow made a sort of face. "No monsters or beasties, but some prime Spike-gossip," she reported, and Buffy rolled her eyes, pretending not to care. She had successfully managed not to make much of an expression when he had returned from his 'holiday' the other night, but she was actually glad he was back. Having someone else around with super-strength was always handy in case of emergency, but didn't mean she had to act like he was really part of the group.  
"Honestly, though, do we care?" she asked ironically, and Willow narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.  
"He's got a girlfriend." she divulged, and was triumphant when she saw a look of interest flicker onto Buffy's face. "He's bringing her to Giles' party." Now the look of interest was turning to one closely related to horror.  
"You do realise that she's going to be some skank and he has no idea about personal space boundaries." Buffy put her hand onto Willow's shoulder in order to make her point better. "Even during fights, he and Drusilla were practically humping each other."  
Willow laughed. "Ew, but no," she put her feet on the coffee table and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "It'll be nice! I mean, he deserves a bit of happy, right? I know it's good for, well, humans, but must suck to be chipped."  
Buffy wrinkled her nose and muttered that she wasn't going to be the one to tell Giles that his big party was going to be ruined. Although later on when the group had arrived for a strategy session and Willow did break the news, Giles actually seemed pleased.  
"You're aware that Willow said 'Spike', right?" Xander quipped, gesturing with confusion to the other man's slight smile.  
"Yes," Giles rolled his eyes and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Just, well, it will be nice not to be the oldest person at the party."  
"I'm not THAT old." Spike grinned as he walked through the door, loving, and not for the first time, his vampire hearing and the ability they gave him of jumping into conversations and thus saving a round of hellos all round. However, rather than slip into the flow of chatter, everyone stopped and stared. That was when he realised the state his face was in and he made a dismissive gesture in response to the questions that were thrown to him.  
"Nothin'," he assured them. "Just a tiff with the missus." Darla really hadn't appreciated his come-on in the middle of her rage last night. Well, she'd appreciated it, but not before kicking the shit out of him. A smile crept onto his face and Anya made a face.  
"That means they had rough make-up sex afterwards." she announced in her usual straightforward style, and Spike tipped her a wink. Rough just wasn't the word. He touched a hand to his eye and felt the welt. Of course he couldn't exactly look in a mirror, but he bet his eye was a mess.  
"You should see the rest of me." he smiled proudly, and Buffy had a distinct 'ew' moment.  
"This is the woman coming to the party?" she looked to Giles as if in protest, but he was polishing his glasses with a furious abandon. Spike, however, was walking over to the fridge, no doubt to try and dig out some alcohol.  
"So the party's tomorrow night, yeah?" he said through the fridge, and Buffy made a helpless look at Willow, who shrugged and answered in the affirmative. "I was thinking white shirt, y'know, class it up a bit."  
Anya walked over into the kitchen and nodded. "Make it a bit see-through, then we can see your sex injuries." Xander laughed too loudly and walked round to attach himself to his girlfriend. Spike smirked. That guy was kidding himself if he thought he could stop him sleeping with his woman just by clinging onto her. If he wanted to he could have that one in bed in a heartbeat. He cocked his head to one side and looked Anya up and down. Yeah, he wanted to. Maybe he'd save her from the slaughter, or just do her in the middle? Darla could hardly say no to that kind of fun.  
"White shirt it is." he chuckled, slamming the fridge door shut after giving up the hunt. He'd have to go out and get drunk elsewhere. "So anythin' on tonight?"  
Willow looked at Giles, who looked at Buffy, who looked at Xander, who shrugged. "Take that as a no." Spike surmised, and headed out towards the door. "Well, in that case I'll go work on some more sex injuries and see you ladies and gents tomorrow."  
Buffy sat down with a huff and could distinctly see a domestic argument coming along as Anya let out a little 'yay'. Luckily Tara walked in a minute or two later looking distinctly flustered. Willow met her and after a quick hug asked her what was up.  
"T-two things: one, there's been a bunch of c-cops hanging around the cinema, looks like vamps, and t-two, er, I just got my ass grabbed." She frowned. "By a man."  
Buffy huffed and gave Willow an I-told-you-so look. "Spike really will make the party fun." she drawled, and then turned to business. If there was a big rush of vampire deaths, it looked like they had someone new in town. She arranged a recon and assigned teams, this time pairing herself up with Giles. On the way out Willow was trying to console her girlfriend.  
"Well, it IS a grabbale ass, sweetie."

Spike swayed to the rhythm of the pounding bassline as he walked through the dancefloor at the Bronze to replenish his drink. He'd had roughly half a bottle of bourbon and he had that lovely warm feeling as he finished the last gulp from his current glass. He dropped the empty haphazardly onto the floor and glided his hand across a deicious looking brunette's hip on his way past. She whipped round, all ready to look indignant, but changed her mind when she saw him and smiled. She cocked her head, inviting him to dance, and Spike decided his drink could wait just a little while. He slid his hands around her waist and made sure their hips were pressed together as they began to move to the music. She informed him that her name was Rachel and she was studying at the college. Spike barely even reacted, just raising an eyebrow in what he hoped was a gesture of interest. He was trying to work out if he wanted to fuck her or just go for a tasty snack. He settled on the former and introduced himself, making sure to touch his lips softly against her ear as he did so.  
"So what are you studying?" Rachel asked, and Spike chuckled, moving one hand onto her lower back while the other stroked down her leg. "You, at the minute, love." he breathed, and felt a little shudder run through her. It really was a bonus being English when trying to pick up women in America; they just melted at the first hint of his accent. "You gonna buy me a drink, or do I have to beg?" Rachel laughed and made a signal which meant 'stay put' before sashaying across to the bar. Spike watched her leave and tried to figure out what she would buy him. It always intrigued him to see how people judged him - the worst he had been bought was a cocktail, but then he was in a gay bar at the time. Plus, in the end it was a damn nice cocktail.  
He leant against a pillar and closed his eyes. This was the life. He hadn't had this much luck with women since, well, before the chip - his theory was that women could sense the danger and that they bloody well liked it, hence his continuing success since Darla's intervention.  
"Spike!" he opened his eyes and visibly sagged. The Slayer. Always hanging around when he didn't want her there; why couldn't she just hang on until tomorrow night and wait in line to get her throat whipped out? "We need help, there's a new big bad in town."  
He raised an eyebrow. She didn't have to tell HIM. He made a little pout. "I'm kinda busy here, Slayer." he blinked. "Buffy." By the look of gentle suspicion in her eyes he guessed he might have just gotten away with the quick correction. He made a mental note: only call them 'Slayer' if you want them to know you're after killing them soon.  
Just on cue Rachel returned, with what looked like a vodka and coke. "Good girl." he smiled, taking the drink and putting a hand to her stomach, fingertips just reaching up towards her breasts (one of his favourite tricks), and she swallowed heavily and took a long drink of her vodka.  
"Yeah, busy," Buffy hissed, elbowing Spike and then looking at the gorgeous brunette currently melting next to him. "Is this your new girlfriend?"  
Rachel immediately snapped out of her spell. "You have a girlfriend?" Spike opened his mouth, closed it shut, and glared at Buffy. GOD he would enjoy killing her. "I don't believe you!" Rachel gave a little stamp of her feet and stormed away, thankfully not throwing her drink at him and leaving his also in tact.  
"Man you really are a bitch." Spike muttered, gulping back his entire vodka.  
"Hey, you're the one trying to sleep around." Buffy countered, steering him towards the door and out onto the street.  
"Love, I don't have to try." the vampire shrugged her off as soon as they hit the street and prepared to win an Oscar for pretending to be surprised at the new rash of vampire killings. Amusingly, he was actually given his new neighbourhood to patrol, but not so amusingly he was paired with Xander. His night was just getting better and better.

Xander strolled ahead of the vampire, blathering on about whatever shit he thought passed for real thoughts, and had at least three near misses with Spike's fangs which he had no idea about. Spike was really finding it difficult to exercise self-control. If there was one person he would kill and damn the plans, it was this little bastard. He just didn't have a clue who he was messing with. Eventually Spike just slinked away to his villa, leaving the boy no doubt still talking to himself and heading further down the street.  
He found Darla trying on dresses for the following evening and having a little dance to some music she'd found. Something from the 50s, he recalled.  
"You're back early," she commented, smoothing down a red velvet number which did wonders for her legs. "What happened, you run out of booze?"  
Spike made a 'ha ha' face and began pacing up and down in front of the fireplace. "I'm just wound up, love."  
"What else is new?"  
"Don't start." he warned, and Darla looked at him for the first time. He really was looking stressed, and it just didn't suit him. If she wanted to hang around with someone who last smiled in 1921 she would have gone back to Angel. "It's just a ball ache havin' to wait to kill the Slayer and her lot."  
"Well you WILL wait." Darla commanded, deciding against the red velvet and stepping out of it in one effortless movement. "If you make it so I've been wasting my time here, I will be forced to emasculate you."  
Spike huffed and folded his arms across his chest. "Some nice sympathy you've got there." he moaned in an undertone, and suddenly sat up straight. He could smell someone coming; someone familiar. Darla had sensed it too and she was pinning him against the wall before he had time to breathe.  
"Have you lead one of them here?" her eyes blazed yellow as she changed into her game-face, and Spike followed suit as he managed to push her off. "You really as as thick as pig shit, Spike, you're embarrassing."  
"Fuck you," he growled, jogging lightly over to the window where he saw Xander poking about on the porch. "You just hang back there, baby, I'll go get rid of him." Darla shook her head as he let himself out. He was practically schizophrenic, that boy. Except for Drusilla she'd never known anyone capable of changing gears from 'fuck you' to calling her 'baby' so fast. At least it meant arguments usually ended in bed, though. She drifted over to the window and spotted Spike ushering the little boy away from the villa. She'd have to make sure she killed that one; he'd gotten away from her once, and it would really piss Spike off.

The dips were out, some alcohol was arranged on the kitchen counter, and the music had been taken over by Buffy: Giles' party had begun...and Spike was panicking. He really should have eaten before he came, because now he was wound up tighter than Angel being confronted by a child he'd killed and the beer was going straight to his head. Still, he trusted alcohol to calm his nerves. He blinked and realised that Red's woman had just asked him a question.  
"What?" he blinked, trying to make the two images of her turn into one. Tara blushed and looked to Willow for a quick rescue.  
"Spike, seriously, I know it's a party but you need to slow down." the witch whispered, taking yet another empty bottle from the vampire's limp hand. "Are you nervous about introducing your girlfriend to us all?"  
Spike hiccuped. "You could say that, yeah." he tried to remember what they'd agreed about getting Darla into the house and failed. He'd just have to improvise, and also not kill anyone before she got there. He stood up and swayed a little before bumping straight into Anya.  
"You're appropriately dressed." she informed him with a smile, and Spike grinned and winked at her. "I'm going to get drunk, also, because this party isn't very good."  
The vampire sighed. "True, love, but it's gonna get a whole lot better soon." He looked at the clock and was almost fairly certain it said 10.30pm. Darla was due in half an hour. "Quite soon." he added, but Anya had already switched off and was looking at his body through his loosely buttoned shirt. He really liked this one, absolutely no social airs or graces, just did what she liked. Yeah, he'd probably save her for a bit of fun. "Enjoyin' the view?"  
"Yes, it's very nice." she smiled and abruptly walked away. He looked around and saw Xander giving him evil eyes, and sighed. He needed another drink.

The doorbell rang and Spike was to say the least unprepared. He had found his way over to the kitchen counter and was drinking steadily with Giles, both bemoaning the current state of affairs and the youth of today. Spike had commented that to him, Giles was the youth of today too, and that seemed to perk the fella up a bit, but he was still edging on maudlin. Now the doorbell had gone, it was 11pm, and Spike immediately broke into a bit of a sweat. He was too excited to think straight.  
"Want to invite my lady in, Rupert? Rude to have her standing on the doorstep." Well look at that, he had remembered the plan to get her in before being seen. Giles obediently called out 'come in', and Spike bounded over to the door and flung it open wide. Darla was still a few steps back in the shadows, but Spike could see she looked delicious. She had on the smallest concievable black dress and her hair fell in loose curls down onto her impressive chest. With the sight of her and the thought of the upcoming kills he felt himself harden and threw himself onto the other vampire. His tongue darted into her mouth and Darla chuckled softly into the kiss, loving having her ego stroked. She pulled back and stared into his blazing blue eyes.  
"Ready?" she whispered, and Spike swallowed thickly before nodding mutely. They stood there for another few seconds, feeling the eyes of the Scooby gang straining out into the darkness trying to get a peep at who Spike had brought along, and then Darla was dazzled by the most brilliant smile she had ever seen. Spike stepped to one side with a flourish and watched the horror and the gasps. Perfect. Let the killing begin.

The floor was slippery with blood by the time they had finished. Spike lay atop the kitchen counter holding his stomach and let out the longest moan of pleasure, causing Darla to look up from where she was finishing off Tara and smile. She hadn't had this much fun since before Angel had got his soul. And despite all accounts to the contrary Spike was generous - he'd even let her have a few tastes of the Slayer. "Number three." he sighed now, staring up at the ceiling and stretching out his back. "Who else has killed three Slayers?"  
Darla stood up, picking her way across the bodies, and leaned over into Spike's sightline. "No one I know of, darling." He smiled lazily and yawned. The evening had really taken it out of him, he felt like he could sleep for a week. He'd not exactly stuck to the order as per worked out with Darla earlier, but he'd finished off most of them before getting round to the Slayer. She really had been full of herself, acting like it was no big deal when Darla walked in, just making a silly quip and picking up a stake. She forgot, she'd fought Spike by himself and Darla by herself, but together it was a whole different ballgame. Together they were magical.  
"Urgh, I'm gettin' sentimental," he groaned and heaved himself into a sitting position. He spread his legs apart and drew Darla close to him for a deep kiss, tasting Tara on her lips, and brushed her hair back, unwittingly smearing blood into the blonde.  
"Well there's still some of them left, and I'm full." Darla pouted, and stood back to allow Spike to hop down off the counter. "Just Anya and Rupert." he replied, motioning over to where the two sat tied up back to back and wide eyed with fear. Giles looked particularly hostile, whereas Anya looked more, well, concussed. "I'm not sure what I want to do with Rupert yet." he came over to crouch in front of the pair and cocked his head thoughtfully.  
"I'm sure you'll think of something." Darla grinned, running her hand through Spike's hair, and considered. "You know, I think getting you fixed was one of my better ideas."  
Spike looked up and allowed her to cradle his face in her hand. "I totally agree, love." He kissed her palm. "So what's next? Find another Slayer?"  
"You're obsessed. Aren't you satisfied at three?"  
"Baby, killing Slayers is what I do. If one's alive, it's like an itch I can't scratch." he stood up and took her in his arms. "Although speaking of annoying itches, we're about due a trip to LA aren't we?"  
"Angel?"  
Spike nodded and kissed Darla on the tip of her nose. He loved making her happy.

THE END

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